<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Cold Ammunition by CavannaRose</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919202">Cold Ammunition</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose'>CavannaRose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rose Wilson Fics [32]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Ravager - Fandom, Teen Titans (Comics), Terror Titans (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Black Markets, Bratva, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers &amp; Fandom Fusions, Gen, Russian Mafia, S.H.I.E.L.D., Weapons, criminal activity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:29:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,695</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When you're a mercenary, sometimes you have to deal with criminals to get what you want, but messing with organized crime never ends at just one transaction, and there's always someone else who wants you on board with their agenda.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rose Wilson Fics [32]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/418006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please forgive my use of both Russian and Croatian. I don't speak either language.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Even down in the bunker, it was fucking cold. Rose hated coming out to the asshole of the world, but for what she was looking for, this was the best place to shop. Unlicensed, untracked, and overpowered. Just the kinda tools a dashing young mercenary was looking for. Of course, that meant rubbing shoulders, and sometimes other parts, with some of the vilest drek that humanity managed to squeeze out of its underbelly. Rolling her shoulder Rose shrugged it off, after all, her father was part of that drek, and his reputation was what got her into places like this. She wasn't a villain, but she wasn't exactly always on the right side of the law either, no matter what her conscience might suggest. Her single eye scanned the crowd, comparing the faces to the mental image she had of her contact. There, the expensive suits and veneer of gentility couldn't hide the barely contained violence in the easy lope of the Bratva deal maker and his bodyguards. Running a hand through her curls to soften the look of all the leather she was wearing, Rose resisted the urge to touch the place where her one hidden weapon was tucked. Couldn't let all these unscrupulous folk gather together armed, after all. This was far more civilized than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moving quickly through the crowd, she placed herself directly in the path of the dangerous man and his accomplices. "Privetstviya, Mikhailov, a word with you?" Dark eyes raked over her body, leaving her with the urge to rush back to her hotel and shower, but instead Rose smiled, a taunting curl of lips that offered something dark to the watchers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the gangster's goons stepped forward. "Go away little girl, we are here to do business."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She resisted, <em>just</em>, the urge to roll her eye. "We're all here to do business, Ivan. That is the entire point of this cinderblock monstrosity in Europe's frozen anus. I wasn't talking to you, so fall in line like a good dog."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moved forward, but the smallest gesture from Mikhailov had him stepping back, his face sullen and promising retribution. "Bitch."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Woof."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you have a business or did you simply want to antagonize Sasha all day?" Mikhailov's voice was smooth and educated, teasing and nearly flirtatious, but she'd seen videos of what exactly he called a fun night out and was gonna call a hard pass on that one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted, to make jokes about a gangster named Sasha, but she bit her tongue. "The scuttlebutt says your little boys' club has a fat load of meta-gene dampening ammunition, Mikhailov." She leaned forward, impressed with the way his eyes stayed on her face instead of her cleavage. "And I've got an off-shore account just <em>full</em> of Euros I'd like to be firing off at targets instead." She gave him her best smile and a long lascivious look, resting one hand on her hip. He gave his second good, not Sasha sadly, a card and nodded to her before walking away. She took the piece of crisp white cardstock and flipped it over.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>8pm. Hotel Monte Mulini. Tomorrow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Well well, looked like she had a date. Tucking the card into her shirt, Rose gave in to the urge to blow Sasha a kiss as the Bratva men walked away. It wasn't her fault that he was such a damn easy mark, and she laughed lightly at the way his face turned a dark purple colour. Mikhailov didn't even turn back to look at her, and once more she felt that flicker of respect for the 'businessman'. Very few thugs knew how to walk the line between class and cruelty, but she had a feeling that he knew it well, and she'd remember that. Wouldn't do to underestimate this particular target. </span>
  <span>No. Not a target. She wasn't here hunting Mikhailov. This was a business deal in order to pick up some toys for the hunt she was prepping for. The job hadn't come down the pipeline yet, but Kuttler assured her it was coming. Some people just didn't know how to let enough alone, and somebody had ruffled some Very Important Feathers. Kuttler assured her that even though the job was still being shopped around, it was going to end up at her door. No one else wanted it, there was a chance no one else could do it, and her father had already turned it down. Smirking, Rose moved to a table of finely honed blades, testing a couple against the edge of her thumb before deciding to purchase. She slid a bundle of Euros across the table and headed for the exit. Time to explore what scant pleasures Rovinj might offer up until she had to attend her meeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose moved briskly through the barren tundra to the sad copse of trees where she'd left her bike. Finding it undamaged and untampered with she pulled on her helmet and pointed it towards Rovinj. The city was startlingly beautiful despite the desolate backdrop, or maybe because of it. Wind whipping her hair in her face she paused before roaring off, desperately trying to get her locks back under control. Leaving them loose to deal with the Bratva was one thing, but driving even 20 feet with them down was dumber than she'd prefer to be out here. Hair back under control she revved the engines again, finally ready to leave. </span>
  <span>As the bike moved beyond the area with the oh-so-secret bad guy mall, as Rose was beginning to call it in her head, the scenery became less and less desolate. Rose actually let a soft, real smile cross her face as the trees grew thicker and taller, and the icy backdrop began to take on an almost pristine beauty in its untouched state. Whatever she had to say about the horrid place she'd just been, this, not even twenty minutes away, was beautiful. Perhaps staying here for a few days wasn't going to be the worst time of her entire life. Too soon she was into the city and riding up to the Villa Milli. It was hardly the fancy hotel that her meeting with the Bratva was scheduled for tomorrow, but she preferred to stay as low profile as possible. Plus she was unloading some serious cash for other things, so the €30 a night cost was kind of a relief to those screaming off-shore accounts she'd had Kuttler set up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her bike parked and tarped, she took the elevator from the garage directly up to her floor. When it stopped at the lobby to let in other guests, the mercenary crossed her arms and glared at the blousy woman and her two children, daring her to get into the little metal box. She even shook out her hair, letting it slide aside and reveal her eye patch. Smirking as the woman pulled her smaller child in close, Rose leaned forward and pushed the close door button, enjoying her solo ride up to the top floor. That she had insisted was non-negotiable. If someone was going to be breaking into her room she needed to limit their entry points. At the end of the hall, she could see the Do Not Disturb sign still dangling from her door handle, but she paused for a full minute, ear pressed against the door, listening, before she opened it and entered. A quick glance verified that nothing major had been disturbed and the blinds were still shut tight. Locking the deadbolt she moved from the room, checking the small bathroom and even smaller closet before laying back on the bed and allowing herself a modicum of relaxation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quiet in her room, Rose frowned as she heard soft footfalls in the hallway, bypassing the entire expanse from the elevator until pausing outside her door. The soft knock and following inquiry of 'Room Service' in a Russian accent had her up on her feet and pressed against the wall near the door, peering through the peephole. "Tko si ti?" She bit out in Croatian. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who are you?</span>
  </em>
  <span> It wasn't unlikely that they would have Russian staff, but this far South there were far more Italians, enough that it was a national language for the country. Silently she drew her blade, one hand lightly against the door handle. If the answer that came back was unsatisfactory she was ready to greet this stranger with naked steel.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As the woman in the hall repeated her announcement, Rose whipped the door open, swinging her blade around, not to attack, but to attempt to trap the interloper between it and the wall beside the door. "Look lady, I don't know who you are, but whatever they're paying you, it isn't enough. I don't have time to waste playing games."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't want to use that, Rose Wilson.” The redheaded woman spoke. "I'm not here to kill you, because if I wanted to, then I would have done it already. I'm actually here to get you to not buy whatever Mikhailov is trying to sell you. I need to take him in, and whatever it is that he’s selling, SHIELD is going to seize it and destroy it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If you wanted to, you would have already? You know who I am, bitch, so you clearly know what I can do. You, however, I don't know who you are, I don't know who this SHIELD is, and I don't fucking care. I've spent the last six months building the contacts to get me in touch with Mikhailov. This is my score. Get your own, get lost, or get dead, those are the options here." She hated killing people she didn't know, but she hated being told what to do far more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't understand. What you are doing is far beyond just killing someone. Those bullets cannot be allowed to enter any kind of circulation, because of what they are." Rose resisted the urge to roll her eye as the woman kept talking. "Just hear me out, if nothing else. I'm determined to make sure that the deal doesn't go down, and that Mikhailov is taken off the board for good."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Listen, lady, I know </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what those bullets do. That's why I want them. I have no problem taking Mikhailov out once I've got them in my hot little hands, hell he's on my list, though there are higher priorities. Don't you think it's better if they end up in my hands than someone else's? I'm a pretty limited source of distribution."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, because you won't tell me where Mikhailov got them from to be reselling them to someone like you." The woman replied, carefully attempting to move her way out from under the knife without attracting too much attention. Rose bit back a growl. "I'm sure we can reach some kind of arrangement where you get some of what you came for, and none of your money is exchanged, in return for a small amount of help apprehending Mikhailov."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The white-haired assassin allowed the woman to step away, confident that she could defend herself from any attack made by her in retaliation. Though it wasn't her strong point, she tried for a reasonable tone. "If you have Mikhailov, you don't need me to tell you where he got the ammo. You can beat it out of him before you kill him or whatever." She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, though her voice went hard. "And if I help you out I'll be taking all of what I came here for. I can't do my next job without it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's none of my concern. You have two choices. Either you take Mikhailov down with me, or I take him down alone and then come after you." She was cold, Rose had to give her that. If she wasn't standing in her way, the assassin would almost admire the redhead. "Those bullets are too dangerous, even if you're telling me you're not going to let anybody have them aside from you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know, for someone spouting a lot of holier-than-thou, save-the-world hero bullshit, you don't move like a good guy." Rose was in motion, her blade back away since she wasn't trying to kill the pain-in-the-ass, just make a point. If she couldn't take the woman down without killing her, then it would be no notch in her pride to compromise. A girl had to save face where she could, after all. In a whirling motion, Rose aimed a punch at the side of the woman's face, continuing the move with a follow-up kick, low in case she ducked the first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faster than expected, but not quite as fast as Rose herself, the woman ducked, but the kick hit her solidly in the side. Dropping, she rolled with the motion, ending up back on her feet in a guard position. Despite herself, Rose was kind of impressed. "We don't need to do this. We have a common enemy, and can sort out any details after the mission is complete." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mercenary considered the woman in front of her. Long red hair, same lithe build as she herself had, a couple of inches taller than her. The other woman would have the reach, but Rose was certain that she was faster, the redhead just didn't feel that enhanced, or else she was holding back, which could be interesting. She didn't want to show up to her deal with bruises though, Mikhailov was notoriously suspicious and might call the whole thing off. Besides, she wasn't a good guy, Rose could just lie to the woman and do what she wanted to get rid of her. "Mikhailov isn't my enemy, he's a target. Enemy implies emotional involvement, and I don't do that shit." Mostly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Whatever. Phrase it in a way that makes you sleep at night, I really don't care. Mikhailov needs to be taken off the board for good." On that point, at least, they could both agree. He was getting too dangerous. It was one thing when he was simply harassing civilians, but if his organization started gunning for metahumans… Rose stifled a shudder. "So, what's the decision?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose made the woman wait as she pretended to think about it. Dealing with unfamiliar entities was all about posturing and establishing dominance, like dealing with large predatory animals. Finally, she nodded once. "You can trail me on my meetup with Mikhailov, but don't interfere until I signal you. The Russian is insanely suspicious and if you blow this he'll be in the wind for months."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've been chasing him across the world for six months. I know how twitchy he can be, and I've even sent people in that there's no way he's seen, and he still ran at the drop of a hat.” Was that a hint of testiness in the other woman’s voice? Rose suppressed a grin. "But how do I know you won't just complete the deal and bail on me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose shrugged, a humourless half-smile on her face. "I suppose that you'll just have to trust in my innate goodness or some other such shit." Shaking her hair into her face so it covered the patch over her missing eye, she shrugged. "I honestly don't give a fuck what you do here. I've given you all I'm willing to concede on this matter. Take it or leave it, but if you leave it there is no fucking way you'll be able to track me to my meeting."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do not double-cross me. It will be something you come to regret." The woman scowled, her hands by her sides as she sized up Rose. "Where is it going to happen? I need to see in advance to get set up."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Unimpressed by the woman's attitude, Rose gave her a half-hearted smile. "I'm not known for my regrets, if you really knew who I was and what I was capable of you would understand that." Of course, the only reason she wasn't known for her regrets was that Rose didn't tell anyone anything about herself ever. "I'm pretty sure I'm not afraid of you so don't bother with the threats and bluster. The deal is going down at the Hotel Monte Mulini, don't be seen there. If you've been on Mikhailov's tail this long he's probably on the lookout for you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I won't be getting close enough to be seen, I promise. I've been doing this job too long to count." The woman was starting to irritate Rose, but she crushed the urge to just slam her door in her face as the redhead pulled out a phone. "Do you have the time for the meeting? Seems like Mikhailov would keep it quiet until the last second, but he could slip up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose met the red-headed woman's gaze with her own single-eyed stare, smiled apologetically, and lied to her face. "Unfortunately no. Mikhailov wants to keep me on my toes I guess. Is that everything you need from me, Miss..." She deliberately let her voice trail off, eyebrow arching in question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's Miss Classified, thank you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that settled it, Rose was done being friendly for today. "Great. Redheaded Bitch it is then. Since we don't need to be civil anymore, you can go do whatever it is you think you do." With that Rose turned and walked back into her room, slamming the door closed and locking it with an audible click. Her temper was short today, but it did feel good to vent some of it at the annoying woman who had come stepping on her toes. </span>
  <span>Rose paced up and down her tiny hotel room, irritation making her restless and itchy. Her hands were in constant motion, rubbing her arms, running through her hair. Fuck. What she needed was a drink to relax. Donning only her smallest blades and locking the others in the room safe, she tucked Mikhailov's business card in her pocket and headed out to find a cheap bar to drink away her nerves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose ended up at a filthy dive halfway between her motel and the grand place that Mikhailov had set for the meeting. The crowd here seemed to mostly be locals, which told her that the booze would be well priced and the conversation almost non-existent, which was her favourite kind. She crossed the room, her boots sticking to the floor where someone's beer had spilled, and settled down by the bar, ignoring how the room around her had grown quiet. Either the locals would move on with their nights or not, she didn't really care. </span>
  <span>"Za mene jedna pelinkovac, molim." She dropped a couple of Euros on the counter and made eye contact with the bartender, watching the way his gaze slid over her eyepatch uncomfortably. After a moment he picked up her money, sliding a small glass of the bitter yellow liqueur over to her. With a swift motion, Rose tossed it back, slamming the glass down. "Još!" The bartender smiled, and finally, the sound of speaking started up in the bar again as the big man refilled her glass. </span>
  <span>Somehow Rose got into a shot-drinking contest with another patron, the wormwood from the pelinkovac making its way through her enhanced system faster than the regular folks around her, which apparently was winning her some admirers. Stumbling over to the side of the bar with a pair of dockworkers who drank much better than she smelled, she allowed them to coerce her into a game of darts. Bets were exchanged and a small crowd gathered around the tiny white-haired woman with one eye and her burly Croatian blue-collar admirers. They didn't know it, but these were her chosen people. Suddenly Croatia didn't seem that bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the night was drawing to a close, Rose's blood hummed with the liqueur. It felt like her very blood was running sluggishly through her veins, but she felt like a million fucking bucks. She didn't often let loose so hard on a job, but the aggravating redhead from earlier had left her needing to blow off a little steam. A hand landed on her shoulder and Rose turned with a smile, though she quickly wished she had responded in her usual anti-social manner. The massive hand belonged to Sasha, Mikhailov's unpleasant bodyguard. He matched her smile with a dark one of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You almost look like a real girl when you smile. Too bad you are so... blemished." As his hand tightened its grip, she took a wild swing, staggering a little as she realized she was far too fucked up for just overindulging on pelinkovac. The men who had been her pals not ten minutes before were backing away, looking embarrassed, but unwilling to interfere as several more of Mikhailov's men spread out behind Sasha. "The meeting has been moved up, you will come with us now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll come with your... mother doggie boy. Woof." Her voice slurred, vision slightly blurry, and yet it still took three of them to wrestle her out of the bar and bundle her into the sleek black limousine. Pressed between the too-wide bodies of two of the thugs, Rose glared daggers across the plush interior at Sasha, baring her teeth in a snarl. "Stupid car for here. Everyone gonna knows where you are." </span>
  <span>Fuck piss shit. She hated not having full control of her faculties. The serum would clear any toxins from her body eventually, but she was vulnerable until that happened so she had to stay on edge. Eventually, however, they pulled into the underground parking of the Hotel Monte Mulini, and Rose had to fight not to sigh in relief. She knew where she was, now she just had to figure out what Mikhailov's game was.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sandwiched between the men she was mentally calling Dumb and Ugly, Rose glared at Sasha's back as he led them through the underground parking to the hotel entrance. Though her accelerated systems were working through the toxins as fast as they could, she had drunk a lot tonight, and the Croatian liqueur was made with wormwood, which probably wasn't interacting so great with fucking roofies. She dragged her heels, forcing them to lift her off the ground entirely to move her anywhere at all. </span>
  <span>In the elevator she managed to get enough leverage to kick the back of Ugly's knee, collapsing the leg, and she would've got Dumb too, but Sasha interfered. Rose was furious. If she hadn't been drugged she could have taken him mano-y-mano no problem, but dosed up and outnumbered? It took them almost the whole ride to the penthouse level, but they got her back under control, though Ugly kept whining about his broken leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose didn't want to be encumbered this close to Mikhailov, so she stopped resisting, begrudgingly agreeing to mind her manners so that she would be permitted to walk on her own two feet up to the penthouse suite door. Sasha knocked three times, paused, and then knocked twice more, and after a few minutes, they were all let inside. </span>
  <span>The penthouse was fancy, but she expected that much at least. She’d stayed in a few penthouses of her own over time. Mikhailov’s men had pulled the big, plush couch out into the centre of the room, facing the door so when she walked in his lounging form was all she saw, and that litany of foul language that Rose had been chanting in her head escaped in an explosion of vitriol. "Double-crossing, cock-sucking taint-gobbler, what the fuck do you fucking think you're fucking trying to pull?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Russian merely quirked an eyebrow in response, acting as if she had exchanged pleasantries, not invectives. "Welcome to my temporary base of operations, Daughter of Slade. Please, have a seat, that will make what comes next so much more pleasant."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chair was brought over, and she was pressed into it, Sasha positioned at her back, a threat she was smart enough to take note of, and she shut her mouth, waiting. Silence extended between her and the mobsters, and Rose ... well, she wasn't great with silence in a crowded room. Being nervous made her cranky, and when she got cranky she got lippy. "Come on, Mikhailov. Is this where you drop a 'we have ways of making you talk' and interrogate me for a few hours? Seriously, I thought we were in Croatia to do business, not measure our dicks." Her lips curled into a smirk. "If I had known it was a dick measuring contest, I would have brought mine from home. It's got some heft to it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ugly stifled a laugh behind her, and she turned to give him an interested look. Not like the muscle to break character. Mikhailov's hiring was getting sloppy. The mobster in question growled, slamming a hand down on the table. "I know you have been in contact with that fucking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Wilson. I will not be double-crossed!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose lazily leaned back in her chair, not really caring that it meant the back of her head brushed Dumb's rock hard abdominals. It meant she knew exactly where the thug was standing on her blind side, not that he seemed to notice that that was why she did what she did. Looking across the room at Mikhailov, she smiled her most dangerous smile, the one that promised violence. "Yeah, I've been contacted by someone who claims to work for this 'shield' agency. What of it? I don't know who or what they are, nor do I care. What I want are the weapons, Mikhailov. I've got the money, you have the thing I want. Should be that simple."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikhailov had leaned forward, whether to answer Rose or to threaten her further, it didn't matter, because just then the room began to fill with smoke at a pace that let her know someone had done it deliberately. A sharp bang behind her meant that someone was using the cover to enter the room, and that was enough for the mercenary. Moving at her top speed she rolled off the chair and into Ugly, pulling his own gun out of the holster and jamming it into his armpit before pulling the trigger. </span>
  <span>To her other side, barely discernable in the smoke, was the flash of red hair and then Dumb went down. Rose didn't want to lose Mikhailov, though, so she pulled away from Ugly and launched herself to where the big Bratva leader had been sitting. Empty, the bastard was making a retreat. "Watch the door, I'm in pursuit!" She called out to the strange woman who had, admittedly, shown up at a very good time, before chasing further into the suite in the hopes of finding the arms dealer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gunshots sounded behind Rose, but she didn't have time to investigate. She had to find Mikhailov. He couldn't have gone far. Bursting through into what had to be a bedroom, she ducked moments before a heavy calibre pistol shot flashed past her face. Once more she thanked the universe for her limited precognition. Her adrenaline was certainly up high enough, and her rage too. "Target located!" She shouted out, letting the redhead know that she didn't need to guard the door anymore. It was only common courtesy, after all. Another shot rang out and she tucked, rolling out of the way, coming up closer to the mobster. As a third shot grazed her leg, Rose raised her own stolen gun, aiming for the knees and pulling the trigger. The kickback was stronger than she expected, and Mikhailov screamed as the .45 blew through his joint and he crumpled to the ground. Grinning, Rose stepped forward, kicking away his own dropped weapon, ignoring the blood running down her leg, and aimed the gun at his forehead. "Now, Mikhailov, we do business my way."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Don't kill him!" The woman from the other room called out, and Rose suppressed a snarl of irritation. She didn’t just want to kill the walking, talking pond scum, she wanted to make him suffer, make sure he felt every moment between now and the one where the light dimmed in his eyes, but it looked like that wasn’t going to be an option, not if she was going to keep playing nice with the redheaded nightmare who had, admittedly, rather excellent timing when it came to interfering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A light flickered in Mikhailov’s eyes, and the big Russian smirked up at the one-eyed assassin. “I see the little bitch takes orders like a good dog." Ignoring the gun he raked his gaze over her appraisingly. "If I had known that, perhaps we could have come to a different arrangement between us."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I take orders from no one you overgrown yeti." Drawing back the gun she smashed it against his temple, knocking him out. A few short months ago she might have killed him on principle, but she was a much calmer person these days. Besides, she could search for the ammunition just as well with him unconscious as dead. Kneeling beside him she pulled off her shirt, leaving herself in only her sports bra, and bound his wrists together with it. That done, she moved to the dresser and closet, beginning to toss the room to see what she could find of value. If he thought that eyeing her like some piece of meat would unsettle Rose Wilson, then he didn’t really know that much about her. A body was just a weapon, and if someone liked to look at it, well that was their distraction and had very little to do with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The redheaded room entered the room, barely glancing towards Rose as she beelined towards the figure of Mikhailov. If she had been prone to positive emotions, Rose might even have been pleased that the other woman didn’t bother to scan the room, trusting the one-eyed girl to have cleared the room, or to have her back if it wasn’t clear. Luckily, she wasn’t the emotive type. Over her shoulder, the redhead offered at least a small modicum of gratitude as she started to drag the gangster towards the door. "Thank you for the help. Scumbags like him deserve to rot for what they do, and getting him off the chess board is huge."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't give two shits about the chessboard." She just couldn't seem to give this lady a break. Something about her imperious attitude rubbed Rose the wrong way, or maybe it was just working with other people that left her on edge. Aha! Finding the gun safe hidden in a drawer of the dresser, the white-haired girl used her superior strength to break the lock, tugging it open. Gleaming boxes of metabolic-neutralizing bullets lined the case, and dollar bills practically danced before her eyes. Even better, now she didn't have to fork over Mikhailov's fee. Cramming boxes into her jacket pockets she spared a glance over her shoulder at the other woman, a small twinge of what might have been guilt prompting her to offer a small tidbit of advice.. "Watch out for him, he might have hidden weapons. I never bothered to check."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sure. Either way, thank you." She kept her awareness on the redhead as the other woman checked Mikhailov over, finding a knife in his sock, as well as another one on his spine. "Paranoid bastard.." The agent mumbled to herself, and Rose suppressed a snicker. If she thought two blades was paranoid, she’d be plum shocked at the arsenal the mercenary usually carried on her person. Hell, Rose was feeling pretty naked right now without it all. "You might want to leave. Otherwise there might be some awkward questions." </span>
  <span>Ah. Clearly the other woman had called in some kind of backup, and the one-eyed assassin tried her best not to snort derisively. Not everyone in the world had her paranoid commitment to running solo. Of course, not everyone had been betrayed by as many people as Rose had in the past either. Nor did they have her father's cutting voice coldly judging them from the back corner of their heads. Giving a brief nod she set the ammunition that didn't fit onto her person beside the redhead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's what's left of the anti-meta rounds. Maybe that agency you work for can reverse engineer them, figure out if they're permanent or temporary, and if they can be reversed. You figure that out, you leave a message here." Beside them she left a small white card with a Rubik's cube and a number on it. "Don't bother trying to trace it, the man who runs the service is the best there is. He'll get the message to me, no matter where I am."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course. I'll be in contact one day, when all the science is done. Just don't make a scene with them, okay?" Rose gave the woman a lopsided grin. Oh she had plans, and some of those plans definitely involved making a scene, but she wouldn’t worry the woman with small little details like that. Not now, anyway. "Go, get out of here. They'll be through the door any second now.” The redhead nodded toward the nearest window, the best and closest method of egress, which broadened Rose’s smile even wider.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snapping a cheeky salute off at the older woman, Rose picked up a gun and fired three shots into the glass before tossing the weapon aside and charging straight at the window, curling herself up into a condensed little ball of violence before hurling herself through it, shards shattering and falling all around her. Yeah, she could have opened it up and slunk out like a spy, but this was more fun. Twisting as she fell she managed to catch the edge of the brickwork, feeling the brutal wrenching in her shoulders as she slammed against the side of the building before she let go again. She had no intention of climbing, she just wanted to slow her fall. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she was off like a shot, white hair trailing behind her like a ghost.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>